Generations
by Smeagolia
Summary: fam-i-ly (noun) a person or people related to one and so to be treated with a special loyalty or intimacy. Follow one of our favorite wizarding families through the many ups and downs of life, including many heart-warming moments and crazy antics of being the Weasleys.
1. Something Borrowed

**A/N: Written for the Connect the Weasleys Challenge.**

**Arthur/Molly- something borrowed.**

_I won't give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I'm still giving you all my love_

_I'm still looking up, still looking up._

~Jason Mraz

"I Won't Give Up"

"Just think," Molly said excitedly, falling onto the couch and snuggling closer to her husband-to-be. "Tomorrow we'll be married! I'll be Mrs. Weasley!" Arthur grinned and kissed Molly on the cheek.

"And I'll be the luckiest man there ever was." Molly laughed giddily and slapped him playfully on the arm. She turned her attention to the tiny television sitting on the cluttered table in front of them.. She groaned and reached for the remote.

"Why is this show always on? They need something new…" Her voice trailed off and the remote slipped from her hand.

"Mollykins? What's the matter?" Arthur questioned franticly, feeling her forehead for a fever. She shook her head and gently pushed his hand away.

"Something new, Arthur! We've forgotten! We need something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence in you shoe!" Arthur chuckled.

"We don't need those things, Molly, we have all the luck we need!" But his wofe pouted stubbornly despite his words.

"It's a _tradition_, Arthur, we _have _to do it!" She began counting off on her fingers. "Now let's see, the weddings rings are old, the wedding dress is borrowed, the bouquet is blue, I'm sure we have some muggle money laying around somewhere, so all we need is something new!" She jumped up and shoved her feet into some shoes lying haphazardly in the corner, snatching her purse off the table and checked her lipstick in the mirror.

"Your eyeliner's smudged and your shirt is wrinkled!" Shouted the mirror crabbily, but Molly ignored it.

"Come, on Arthur, there's still time for a trip to Diagon Alley! They just opened a fancy jewelers, I'm sure they'll have something pretty – "

"Molly." Arthur spoke quietly, and she turned to look at him.

"What are you still sitting there for, come on!" She grabbed his hand and pulled on it playfully. "Come on, lazy bones!" Arthur looked up at her, his hand limp in hers and his blue eyes sad.

"I don't think that's a good idea." He whispered. She wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"What's not a good idea? What do you mean, Arthie?" Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He looked so cute and sad that Molly had to fight the urge not to smother him in kisses.

"Do you remember," Arthur murmured, "When I proposed to you? I warned you that money has always been a problem in my family, and that you might be better off with someone who can better support a family with you?"

Molly rushed to speak, "But I love you and no money in the world – " Arthur held up his hand and she fell silent as he continued.

"Well all I'm saying is that we've gone a little over our budget with the wedding and all…"

"How much is a little over?" Molly whispered.

Slowly Arthur pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his worn robes and unfolded it. Molly shivered at the foreboding feeling that hung think over their heads.

"You may want to sit down." Arthur said, and Molly sat, laughing nervously. Arthur handed her the paper, then quickly turned away so he wouldn't have to watch her eyes widen in horror or her jaw drop in disbelief.

"How – How is this _possible?_ Oh, Arthur, I'm so sorry, this – this is all my fault! I was just so excited and I wanted the wedding to be perfect, I should have been more careful and I – I – " She broke off with a sob. Arthur put his arm around her and hugged her close. One thing he couldn't stand was to see Molly cry.

"Hey, don't worry! We'll be okay. As long as I'm with you, everything will be okay. And our wedding _will _be perfect, because we're together." Molly smiled through her teary eyes.

"You're right, Arthur. And you know what, we do have something new." Arthur squeezed her shoulders.

"And what's that?"

"New love, and new hope."


	2. Last Dance

**A/N: Written for the Connect the Weasleys challenge**

**Percy/Molly- Last Dance**

**Don't forget to leave me some feedback!**

The first thing Percy noticed when he entered the Great Hall in his dress robes with Penelope by the arm was his mother waving energetically from a table off to the side. Percy nervously glanced at Penelope, who didn't seem to notice anything out of place.

"Hold on a moment, Penny." He murmured apologetically. He watched her fade into the crowd before spinning on his heel to face his mother. "Mum? What are _you _doing here?" Molly Weasley ignored her son's disgusted tone and enveloped him in a bear hug.

"Dumbledore invited the parents of the participants in the Triwizard Tournament to join the Yule Ball. Since Harry is practically a son to us, Dumbledore allowed us to come in the place of his – er – aunt and uncle." She gazed out over Percy's shoulder to where the Weird Sisters had struck up a song and the bravest couples had begun to dance (if you call shuffling awkwardly back and forth dancing.) Percy saw Fleur Delacour and her father among them and hurriedly stepped to block them from his mother's view, but it was too late.

"Let's dance together Percy!"

Percy fidgeted with his Prefect badge. "Well… I would, really! But Penelope is waiting for me, way over there, so I don't want to keep her waiting! Bye now!" He rushed off before Mrs. Weasley could make him feel any guiltier than he already did. There was no way he was going to be caught dancing with his _mom. _It's not that he didn't love her, he did, but Percy was a Prefect with a reputation to keep.

He found Penelope and invited her to sit down with him. It was awfully hard to find an open seat. Only one table seemed to conveniently have two spots open…

"Hey, how about over there!" Penelope said, pointing across the Hall to where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat chatting with Professor Flitwick and Mrs. Delacour. Percy sputtered, trying to come up with a way out as he followed Penelope to the table.

"Hello, dear! Oh, and this must be Penelope!" Mrs. Weasley gushed, breaking away from her discussion on what brand of magical cooking pot was most effective. Percy nodded tersely and introduced his mother to Penelope.

A new song began and some new couples gabbed hands and pulled each other onto the dance floor. "Percy, let's dance before it gets too crowded over there." Mrs. Weasley said, starting to get up from her chair.

"I'm sorry, I already told Penelope I'd dance with her." Percy responded quickly and pulled his date away. He put his hands stiffly on her waist and she draped her hands on his shoulders as they stepped back and forth to the Weird Sisters' music.

Penelope spoke after a while. "What was that all about? Why won't you dance with your mum? She seems nice." Percy sighed.

"She _is _nice, but it will just be embarrassing to dance with her. Everyone will be watching."

She shrugged. "Who cares if they're watching." Percy didn't answer.

After a while Penelope wandered off to get a drink, and Percy was left alone. It was getting kind of late, and people were beginning to trickle out the door. Percy saw his parents heading that way. He sighed. He knew what he had to do.

"Mum?" He called just as the Weird Sisters announced this was the last dance of the night. "Do you want to dance with me?" Mrs. Weasley smiled and took his hand.

"I thought you'd never ask."


	3. Burn

**A/N: Written for the Connect the Weasleys Challenge**

**Charlie/Ginny- Burn**

**Please write me a review, I really want to know your opinion!**

"Tell me about Santa Clause again." Ginny said, settling herself in Charlie's lap. He laughed. The week between now and Christmas was slowly diminishing, and Charlie's 5-year-old sister talked nonstop about it.

"Again? I just told you everything there is to know yesterday!" Ginny flashed her gap-tooth smile that could melt a heart of ice.

"Pleeeeeeease?"

"Fine," Charlie grinned in defeat. "What do you want to know?"

Ginny bounced excitedly on his knee. "When will he come?"

"He'll be here the night before Christmas, but only when you're asleep, so don't try to stay up all night like last year."

Ginny laughed. "How will he get to our house?"

"He rides a magic sleigh pulled by eight flying reindeer with one special one in the front." He paused so Ginny could put in –

"Rudolf!"

Charlie chuckled. "Yes, Rudolf. And Santa will land on our roof and he'll climb down the chimney to deliver our presents." Ginny grabbed his arm and asked the question she'd asked the last three times they'd had this conversation.

"But Charlie! Why doesn't Santa get burned when we leave a fire in the fireplace?"

"Santa has many secrets that he wants to keep a mystery, but I'll tell you because I know you're a very trustworthy girl." He pretended to glance around to make sure no one was listening before leaning closer to whisper in her ear. Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing too early.

"Santa has special fireproof underpants."

Ginny burst into hysterical giggles at the thought of fireproof underpants. Charlie laughed but then his face became mock serious.

"But don't tell anyone, okay? It's our little secret." Ginny nodded in agreement.

"Ours."


	4. Elephant in the Room

**A/N: Written for the Connect the Weasleys Challenge**

**Fred/George- Elephant in the Room**

**Pretty please review!**

"FRED! GEORGE! IN THE KITCHEN, NOW!" Mrs. Weasley roared in fury. The twins exchanged half-amused glances and hurriedly locked the door to the drawing room. Their mother was waiting for them in the kitchen with her arms crossed and smoke spilling from her ears.

"Sit down, boys." She spat, and they didn't dare disobey her. "I have a few things to ask you about." She lifted a paper bag from the kitchen floor and dumped ints contents on the table in front of them. "Explain what all these bags of peanuts are for." She waited with a raised eyebrow.

"Well," George began. "Fred here woke up with the sudden craving for peanuts, so we bought him some."

Fred nodded his head in agreement, ripping open a pack and pouring the peanuts into his mouth to enforce George's lie. "Yummy!"

Mrs. Weasly smirked. "_Sure. _But then what is _this?_" She jabbed a finger at a muddy footprint on the floor. But it wasn't a human footprint. It was much bigger and rounder. Fred spoke through a mouthful of peanuts,

"Yeah, you may want to take a look at Percy's foot. Lately it's been swelling up and turning blue."

Mrs. Weasley snorted like an angry bull. "Alright, since you seem to have an excuse for everything, tell me what _this _is all about." She pulled a flyer from her pocket and shoved in under their noses.

_Baby elephant stolen from local circus by two unidentified juveniles, _the first line read. As if on cue, a loud thump and the trumpet of an elephant came from the drawing room. The twins high-fived and jumped, laughing, from their chairs and out the front door.

"BOYS!" Mrs. Weasley shouted in vain just as they turned the corner and were out of sight.


	5. Crash

**A/N: Written for the Connect the Weasleys Challenge**

**Bill/Molly- crash**

**Please leave a review!**

Bill pulled his seat belt tight and gripped the steering heel so hard his knuckles turned white. "Do I have to do this?" He whimpered to the woman in the passenger seat of the car.

"Yes, Bill. You're engaged now, you should have a drivers' license."

Bill groaned. "But if we die, don't say I didn't warn you!" Mrs. Weasley patted his shoulder and made sure her seat bet was secure and that the air bag was on.

"Now remember to watch where you're going and take your time.' She advised, then added, thinking about the last time Bill had practiced his driving, "Oh, and watch out for flying birds."

Bill nodded and began backing slowly out of the driveway. Mrs. Weasley began to relax when they'd made it halfway down the driveway without injuries, but her eyes widened in horror when she glanced in the rearview mirror.

"That trashcans! Bill, watch out!" CRASH! Mrs. Weasley cringed at the sound of her trashcans, which were out for the garbage man, being crunched beneath the tires. Bill groaned in defeat and made to grab the door handle but his mother touched his shoulder.

"We're not giving up yet, Bill. Put those hands on the wheel, ten and two." Bill grunted in response and gripped the steering wheel fiercely. His foot nudged the gas pedal and the car continued its backwards decent down the driveway. Mrs. Weasley felt the bump over the curb and turn onto the road.

"Good, keep it up and we just might make it to the main road alive." She chuckled, her eyes blazing with determination.

Bill teased the car down the road so slowly a passing butterfly beat them to the corner. Mrs. Weasley bit her tongue, knowing she was going to regret her next move. "Speed up a little bit, Bill."

And sure enough, the regret soon came. CRASH! Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"And there goes the Wickersons' mailbox – again."

Bill opened his mouth to apologize, and no doubt hand over the wheel to his mother, and probably vow never to touch a car again, but Mrs. Weasley shook her head violently.

"No, Bill. Don't you dare. We are getting off this street no matter what. Are you with me?"

Bill gaped her enthusiasm. "If you say so – "

"NO! Don't give me none of that Bill Weasley. Give me some passion! Repeat after me," She raised her fist in the air and began chanting, "Bill can drive! Bill can drive! Bill can drive!" Bill laughed at his mother's spirit and decided to go along with it.

"BILL CAN DRIVE! BILL CAN DRIVE!" They called, not a trace of half-heartedness in their voices.

Bill put the car into gear and pulled away from the wreckage of the mailbox. He jerked the vehicle forward, surveying the road before him. No trashcans, no mailboxes, no low flying birds.

"BILL CAN DRIVE! BILL CAN DRIVE!" They roared as Bill pushed the car forward. Mrs. Weasley whooped loudly as her son turned the car onto the main road.

"Bill can drive! He can finally drive!" She cheered.


	6. Fingertips

**A/N: Written for the Connect the Weasleys Challenge**

**Arthur/Ginny- Fingertips**

Ginny slammed the front door as hard as she could, making a glass sitting on the counter rattle. She stomped upstairs like a storm, her hair the swirling, angry clouds. She kicked a cauldron that had been abandoned on the landing, and proceeded to swear loudly.

_Ron was right. _Ginny thought to herself. _I am just a stupid girl. And one who's foolish enough_ _to kick iron pots too._

"Ginny? Is that you?" A voice called in concern from the guestroom. Ginny ventured to open the door a crack and peer inside.

No one usually went in this guestroom, the one on the floor above was much better cared for. Inside, the bed had been pushed up against the wall, and the rug had been rolled back. Arthur Weasley sat criss-cross on the floor, surrounded by open paint cans and facing a color splattered canvas. He hastily wiped his paint stained hands on the old cooking apron he was wearing, leaving trails of green and yellow.

"Dad?" Ginny said uncertainly. She's never seen her father do anything creative before, not even wear his watch on a different wrist. He was usually so logical and well reasoned, with his insane interest in muggle artifacts and what made them tick. Arthur was the last person she'd expect to be hiding in the guestroom painting.

"Hello, dear. I'm just doing a little finger painting."

Ginny blinked. "Finger painting?"

Arthur nodded eagerly. "Yes, even though I'm not terribly good, sometimes I come up here to be alone and think. And I find that finger painting relaxes me, to create all the shapes and colors with my own two hands." He pulled a blank canvas from under the bad, setting it up next to him.

"It really helps when I'm upset about something. Would you like to join me? I usually don't tell anyone I do this, or I'd never get a chance alone, but you can be an exception."

Ginny plopped down beside her father, and watched in silence as he traced out shapes with his fingertips on the canvas. Ginny dipped her index finger in a paint can at random, and pressed it against her canvas.

"Try mixing colors too. It makes it more interesting." Arthur murmured absent-mindedly.

Ginny swirled together yellow and blue, and ran her fingers through the green blob. Arthur wiped his fingers on his apron and turned to his daughter.

"So do you want to tell me what's the matter?" He asked gently. Ginny sighed and pressed her hand against the canvas. She liked the feeling of all the colors squishing between her fingers like a melted rainbow.

"It's pretty stupid, actually."

Arthur shook his head. "Sometimes the stupidest things bother us the most. The reason I'm up here is because Lucius Malfoy saw me carrying some cursed muggle dolls at work, and he asked me if I'd finally resorted to selling my prized doll collection for money. Pretty stupid, huh?"

Ginny shrugged. "No more than mine. None of my brothers wanted me on their Quidditch team in the game their playing outside, and then Ron called me a stupid girl."

Arthur rolled his eyes, something Ginny had never seen him do. _He's different here, _Ginnythought, _less proper and grownup when he's with his paints. _

"Girls are anything but foolish." Arthur scoffed. "Just look at your mother and I. Who do you think has the upper hand this marriage? And besides, between you and me, Ron shouldn't be talking – he's a horrible Quidditch player."

Ginny grinned. "Thanks, Dad. You know, you were right. Finger painting does help. But I think most of it was talking to you."

Arthur smiled and gave her a peck on the forehead. "Come back and paint with me anytime."


	7. Contagious

**Ron/Percy- Contagious**

**Written for the Connect the Weasleys Challenge**

Usually Ron liked to be sick. Don't get him wrong; he hated the icky, lousy feeling, the terrible stomachaches, boiling fevers, throbbing headaches, and disgusting throw up episodes. But there was one thing he loved, and that was the attention.

In a family of seven children, Ron felt like everyone was always busy with someone – and it was never him. When he was sick it was different. His mum made him chicken noodle soup, Ginny read him stories, and when he was really ill, Fred and George sometimes even put on firework shows in his room. That's why he actually kind of enjoyed being sick, until he got the dragon pox.

It's a terribly contagious disease, so Molly forbade anyone from going within three feet of his room until. Ron was better. That meant no chicken noodle soup, no stories, no firework displays. His family was worried about him, dragon pox could be fatal, but they couldn't worry where Ron could see, and that's why he hated it. At least when he wasn't sick, he _saw_ other people, but now the only time anyone came to visit him was when Molly slipped him food and medication.

This is why Ron was half pleasantly surprised, half annoyed when Percy slid into his room and pulled up a chair to sit by his bed.

Ron scowled. "What are _you _doing here?" The fever was really getting to him, and it made him all hot and bothered. Percy smiled tightly.

"I'm here to keep you company."

"But I'm _contagious._" Ron spat out the last word like it had a bitter taste in his mouth. His nose was beginning to tickle. He groaned, knowing what that meant.

"ACHOOO!" Sparks flew from his mouth and nose burning his hands. Percy calmly handed him a wet handkerchief.

"I had dragon pox when I was a baby, so I'm immune now." He explained.

"Oh," Ron mumbled. "Did mum send you in here then?"

Percy shook his head. "I came in here of my own accord."

Ron scowled. "Very noble of you, Percy, to give up your study time to keep your sick brother company."

Percy stood and crossed his arms. "If that's what I get for trying to do a nice thing, then I suppose I'll just leave." He snapped angrily.

Ron sighed and looked down at his hands. Illness had made his skin look pale and pasty, and his sneezes had made little burn marks all over his hands and arms. "I'm sorry." He murmured, and Percy nodded curtly.

"I should think so."

They sat in silence for a long time, but it wasn't really an awkward silence that needed to be filled, it was more a comforting silence.

"Thank you, Percy. For sitting with me." Ron told him suddenly.

Percy bobbed his head. "I know how you feel, you know."

"What do you mean?"

Percy looked him in the eye. "That feeling that no one has time for you because they're busy with someone else, I know that feeling. I think we all do. It's just what happens in a big family. But in the end remember we're all in this together, and we'll always be there for each other."

Ron smiled. "Thanks, Percy. And the next time you're contagious, I'll come visit you."

Percy grinned, and they sunk back into comforting silence.


End file.
